


The Libertine

by Sineala



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Ultimate Universe, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Assumptions, Coming Out, Getting Together, Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Repression, Ults Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 10:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21052547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: Steve and Tony have both made certain assumptions about each other. You know what they say about assuming things.





	The Libertine

**Author's Note:**

> A fic for Ults Day, set just after Ults 2. Usual Ults warnings about cancer, homophobia, slurs, and general assholery apply. Thanks to Iso, Hopelesse, Blossom, and Phoenix for helping me out.
> 
> Also, the Zorro telenovela I was thinking of ("Zorro: La espada y la rosa") postdates Ults 2 by a few years but, uh, let's pretend things are different on Earth-1610.

The best thing about Steve was that he was honest. That wasn't the right word, exactly. Earnest. Open. What you saw was what you got. Like a HTML editor. He didn't keep secrets. Hell, he didn't have secrets. Everyone else came to Tony wanting something, money or favors or power -- and then there was Steve.

If you'd asked Tony, when they'd formed the Ultimates, which of them he was most likely to become friends with, he wouldn't ever have named Steve. He wasn't sure he'd have come up with anyone -- well, other than Natasha, and that hadn't been friendship, exactly, and look how well that had turned out. So it was to his eternal bemusement that now, after everything, now that the Ultimates were running independent of SHIELD, that Captain America had somehow become his friend.

Steve had a standing invitation, so Tony wasn't particularly surprised when Steve was buzzed into his penthouse one evening after dinner.

It had been a long, tiring, frustrating day, and honestly Tony had been planning to turn in pretty soon, but well... being around Steve made him happier than anything else on offer.

"Hey," Steve said. He was wearing one of his stupid Captain America t-shirts and had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his fatigue pants. Someday he was going to let Tony buy him better clothing. His shirt stretched tight over his muscular shoulders. Tony imagined him turning heads on the subway. He wondered how the hell Steve was still single. "Quiet night at home, huh?"

Tony glanced down at himself. He was wearing his favorite robe, purple silk, his comfiest slippers, and he'd been about to pour himself a scotch. "You could say that, darling."

The second-best thing about Steve was that Tony didn't even have to put in any effort and Steve still wanted to be his friend. Tony didn't even have to change out of his pajamas. He could just... be himself. He wasn't sure he'd ever had a friend like that. He could play it as eccentricity, sure, but most people got annoyed. Except, apparently, Steve, who didn't care what he was wearing as long as he was here.

Steve smiled a faint smile and ran a hand through his hair, trailing blond spikes. "S'why I said it."

"Can I do anything in particular for you?" Tony asked, as he headed to the sideboard and poured himself a drink that was weaker than the one he had been going to pour; Steve probably wanted him conscious. "Get you a drink?"

"No, thanks," Steve said. "But if you're not busy, I was hoping you had time for a movie or one of those shows of yours."

Steve had never admitted it in so many words, but he was lonely. He had to be. And Tony was more than happy to indulge him. It wasn't like he wasn't lonely either. Sure, he could pay someone for-- well, whatever he wanted, really. That was one of the benefits of having obscene amounts of money. But this was different. And it was better, knowing that he was making his friend happy.

Tony'd started out watching classic movies with Steve but he'd figured out pretty quickly that Steve wasn't into that; Steve got all pinched around the eyes and mouth, and Tony hadn't needed to be a genius to realize that Steve hadn't wanted to be reminded of the past. So he asked Steve what he liked to watch, and Steve had made him swear -- twice -- that he wouldn't laugh before he'd told him.

Soap operas. He loved them.

That was when Tony figured out they were going to be friends.

He'd started DVRing Steve's favorite soaps, which made him Steve's new best friend in and of itself, and then he introduced Steve to telenovelas, which apparently blew Steve's mind. Steve didn't speak Spanish, so Tony put the captions on, and they were running a Zorro one now that Steve just loved the hell out of.

"Absolutely," Tony said, and Steve beamed at him like he'd made his entire day in one word. "Come on, darling, we can watch the new Zorro episode."

They settled down on the couch, next to each other, as Tony queued up the next episode. Steve's thigh pressed against against his, his body toasty-warm, and his arm went over Tony's shoulder. Tony nestled into Steve's arm, glass of scotch in his hand, and, if he was honest, this was his absolute favorite part: the cuddling.

Tony always figured it was one of those forties things. Men just used to be closer to each other, he supposed. Steve had never said anything, and neither had he, because he sure as hell didn't want to do anything that was going to make Steve stop.

People never touched him these days. It was like they thought brain cancer was contagious. Steve was the only person who knew and didn't care. And, sure, he could pay people to touch him, pay for massages or hookers, but that just seemed... pathetic. So there was Steve, and maybe there was only Steve, really, but Steve practically counted as several people. He was sure big enough to. He was huge and warm and it was just... nice.

Steve dug his thumb into Tony's shoulder, rubbing out a twisted, knotted muscle, and Tony moaned under his breath in relief.

"Remind me to pay you more, darling," Tony said, because of course he couldn't not make a joke about it. "Especially if you offer full service." He waggled his eyebrows.

Steve grinned, eyes fixed on the TV, because he had to keep watching the subtitles. "Nah," he said, lazily. "Consider this one a bonus. On the house. You want anything else, you gotta talk to the manager."

Once upon a time, he'd expected Steve to be offended at all his vague innuendo, but none of it had ever stuck. He supposed Steve had heard enough obscene jokes in the Army to be immune to them all.

Tony frowned. "Are you the manager in this scenario or am I?"

Leaning back, Steve laughed. "If you have to ask, it ain't you."

Tony supposed that was fair.

A few minutes later, Steve moved his arm back, away from Tony, which made Tony a little sad, but, well, it was probably Tony's fault, wasn't it? He'd pushed it. Steve hadn't said, but the reaction was proof. No more gay jokes.

Shit. Okay. He needed to tone it down a little. Stop freaking out Captain Greatest Generation. Maybe he'd never been quite so overt before. Maybe Steve really couldn't take a joke.

Halfway through the episode Steve moved away from him entirely, not touching him at all, and by the time the closing credits were rolling, Tony was convinced he'd fucked this up entirely.

And then he looked over at Steve and realized he had no fucking clue what was going on, because Steve was biting his lip and staring at him. Steve's throat worked. He ran his hands over his thighs, wiping off his palms on his pants.

"Tony," Steve said, in a voice he usually reserved for statements like _they're going to execute the hostages now_, "can I-- can I ask you a question? A personal question?" He paused, and when Tony didn't answer immediately, he continued, "You don't have to answer. I-- I really shouldn't even--"

Setting his scotch down, Tony held up his hands. "Hey, it's okay. Ask away. I don't mind."

Steve swallowed again. "I-- I don't even know what the right words are. They gave me a list at SHIELD, a long time ago, how to say it, but I still might say it wrong--"

"Steve," Tony said, with as much patience as he had in him, as Steve stared back at him despondently. "As anyone who has ever met me can vouch for, I am a _gigantic asshole_ and there is no way you can offend me. Spit it out."

Wide-eyed, Steve's gaze met his, and--

"Are you gay?"

Oh. Right. He probably should have seen that one coming.

"I mean," Steve said, awkwardly, "I know you can't be _gay_-gay, all the way. I know they have a special word for it now, when you like both. I know you were engaged to Natasha. And I know you only talk about liking women. But, well, the fellas I used to know who made jokes like you do or who talked like you do or who--" he made a vaguely swishy motion with his wrist-- "acted like you do, they all liked men." He exhaled hard. "I know it's none of my business, but I was-- I was just thinking that maybe you did, too."

Thank God he had an answer ready.

"Nope," Tony said, confidently. "No need to worry, darling. You're safe with me. I'm completely heterosexual."

Strangely, Steve didn't seem to be reassured. His head snapped up, his mouth fell open, and his cheeks flushed. "What-- how--?"

"Your SHIELD list didn't cover everything," Tony told him, because clearly Nick Fury had failed to introduce Steve to the grooming trends of the modern world, which was really what you could expect from a bald guy with an eyepatch who didn't wear anything that wasn't a SHIELD uniform. "These days, they call it being a metrosexual. It's... sophisticated. It's stylish. Chicks dig it."

Steve mouthed the word _metrosexual_ to himself. For some reason, his face was falling.

"I'm not gay in the slightest," Tony said. "It's become popular for straight guys lately to spend some effort grooming themselves. It's nice to take care of yourself. Dress well. Clean up nicely. Pamper yourself. Get manicures. And maybe you can be just a little flamboyant. Women these days really like that in a guy. Being in touch with your feelings. Being sensitive. Listening. All that good stuff."

Steve wasn't meeting his eyes anymore, gaze downcast with something that looked like shame. A muscle in his jaw was quivering. "So these days, when a fella acts like-- like a fairy, it doesn't mean he's actually a fairy?"

What the hell was going wrong? Steve was really taking this hard. Shouldn't he be happy to learn this? Shouldn't he be thrilled knowing Tony wasn't actually hitting on him?

"Well, yes and no," Tony said. "I mean, obviously, some guys who act like this are actually gay. A lot of guys, probably. Most of them. I'm just not one of them." Clearly he wasn't reassuring Steve enough. He needed to try harder. "Look, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It's not a big deal, right? Nothing to be that upset about, huh? I can cut it out if it bothers you that much." Steve still said nothing. Maybe Tony had to spell it out. "The flirting's a joke, Steve. It's all a joke. I've never been with a man in my life."

"Never?" Steve echoed.

Confused, Tony shook his head. "I like women, Cap."

"Not even once?" Steve asked, and there was some kind of emotion in his voice that Tony couldn't identify. Steve was still looking away from him. "Not even just to try it?"

Tony shook his head again. What, had Steve expected him to have just slipped and fallen on a dick somehow? He'd never been that drunk, and he'd been pretty goddamn drunk in his life. "Definitely not."

"Oh," Steve said, softly, still with that same tense, unreadable emotion. His jaw quivered harder.

He studied Steve, who was still sitting there, next to him, but no longer touching him anywhere, drawn in on himself, trying to make himself smaller. None of this made any sense. He couldn't even figure out why Steve had asked, really. Oh, he knew he'd been joking, but why had Steve wanted to know so badly and then reacted like this? Maybe he'd been hoping Tony would say yes so he could punch him? Work some tension out? Wasn't that what they did back in the good old days? Steve could have been the spitting image of every jock who'd ever pounded Tony into the lockers at school.

No, Steve wouldn't do that to him. Maybe-- maybe when they hadn't known each other, he might have, but he'd been so careful about asking. He hadn't wanted to offend Tony. That wasn't a guy who was spoiling for a fight.

So what the hell was going on here?

"Can I ask you a question?" Tony said, and then, because he was him, he went ahead and asked it. "What would you have said if I'd said yes?"

Steve jerked up and scooted back farther on the couch now, like more than anything he had to get away from him, like now that everything had gone wrong he didn't want to be here. "It's not important," he said, stiffly. "I made an assumption, and I was wrong, and I'm sorry. You've probably had a long day. I should go--"

"No, no, it's fine," Tony insisted. "You can tell me. I want to know."

"No, really, it's okay," Steve said, pushing himself even further away. "You should, I don't know, get some sleep or something--"

Tony reached out and grabbed Steve's arm. "Steve. Come on. Whatever it is, I can take it. I can assure you that whatever you were going to say, I promise I've heard it all before." It wasn't like he'd been spared from the insults, after all, after he'd decided that vicious camp was the best armor he could ever have.

Steve lifted his head, looked Tony straight in the eye, and said, "I was going to offer you a blowjob."

What?

What the hell?

His hand fell away from Steve's arm and now he was just sitting here staring in confusion as his entire world rearranged itself.

The look on Steve's face hadn't been some kind of repressed, simmering anger. It had been _disappointment_.

"You-- you looked tired, when I came in," Steve said, shakily, all in a rush, like now that he'd gotten through that one sentence all his courage was leaking out of him like air from a punctured balloon. "Tired and... maybe kind of sad and lonely. I wanted to-- to do something nice for you, to make you feel good, and you were joking like you might be up for it, you know? I thought maybe I'd suck you off and then put you to bed if you wanted. Or the other way around, if you wanted to be there first instead. But obviously you're not interested in any of that, so if you just-- if you just want to forget I ever asked-- oh, God, Tony, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should go."

Steve pushed himself up off the couch, his face bright red, heading for the elevator as fast as possible. Tony suspected the only reason he wasn't jumping out a window was that they were too many stories up for even Steve to survive it.

And he knew that if Steve walked out of here, he wasn't ever going to come back.

Tony leaped off the couch and hurried after him and he had no idea what he was doing but he knew he didn't want Steve to leave.

"Wait!" he called out, and he got a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Hey, wait, no! Don't go!"

Steve turned around. His face was still red, and his mouth was a quivering line. "It's fine," he said, and he sounded goddamn _miserable_. "It's not your thing. I get it. I'm sorry. I just-- I hope we can put this behind us and not let it affect the functioning of the Ultimates."

Oh, Jesus, no.

He grabbed both of Steve's shoulders now and coaxed him forward, fully aware that he couldn't make Steve do anything he didn't want to do. He wondered about everything that Steve had wanted to do, that Steve had done. He hadn't offered him a blowjob like it was his first one ever, after all.

It looked like Tony had been wrong: Captain America had a hell of a lot of secrets.

"Come on," Tony said. "I'm your friend, okay? Just sit back down and take a few deep breaths. I'll admit I wasn't expecting it, but, well... I wasn't expecting it."

Steve made a noise that maybe wanted to be a laugh, as Tony maneuvered him back into his original seat, and then sat down next to him. He didn't want to treat Steve any differently now that he knew. He considered getting another scotch, but he was afraid Steve would run if he did.

He was aware of Steve's body next to him in a way he'd never really been before, and, no, he told himself, firmly, that wasn't a way he thought about Steve. That wasn't a way he thought about men. Of course men could be handsome. Surely everyone knew that. But they weren't for him. He didn't need to think about what it could be like.

He just didn't _understand_. "You dated Jan. Maybe that was just dating. Maybe you didn't tell Jan. Maybe it didn't come up with you two. But you and Gail were engaged," Tony said, confused. "And you sure made it sound like Gail was the only woman for you."

"She was." Steve half-smiled. "She was absolutely the only _woman_ for me," he said, and he stressed the word, and then Tony got it. "Christ, I don't know why you all think your century invented sex. She knew. Of course she knew. We had... an agreement, I guess you could call it. She said she knew I had needs. I could do anything I liked as long as it wasn't with a woman. I think it made her feel safer, the way they kept showing us all those films in the Army about how you could get VD from the hookers. This was back before we knew I wasn't going to be able to get the clap, anyway. And, I mean, the Army didn't know about me, but that way they weren't going to have to worry I was knocking anyone up and leaving little Captain Americas in Vichy France, right? Made sense to me."

"Oh." Tony couldn't put this together. He couldn't think. "So you-- so you--"

"Fucked my way through the Army," Steve said, with another almost-laugh. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Tony was suddenly, exquisitely aware of how much he had never really thought about gay sex until this precise moment. Oh, it wasn't as if he was ignorant of the general physical details, given that you could do most of the same basic acts with a woman, and essentially all of them if she had a strap-on. He'd tried it a few times, getting pegged. It hadn't really been for him. So he'd settled that, put it aside, shoved it in a box marked done. He knew who and what he was. And if people thought he seemed gay and he wasn't, so what? Who was it hurting?

Him, apparently, he thought. Him and Captain fucking America. He wanted to laugh. He should have had that other drink.

It was just now hitting him, like a dam finally breaking, exactly what he hadn't been thinking about, and none of it was what he thought it had been at all. Glimpses of bare skin in showers, men changing, how long it was safe to look, how long it was normal to look, how long he could look if he pretended it was a joke, if he said it was a joke. Watching porn and fast-forwarding past two men tag-teaming a woman, and it wasn't gay, it wasn't, because they weren't touching, but it was still too much. The rest was safe if he watched the women, if he focused on the women. It was safer if there weren't men at all, if he went to clubs and drank and paid the strippers and they were always only women and that way he'd never have to think about-- about--

About what Steve would look like on his knees, servicing some nameless GI, the same offer he'd made Tony. Steve's mouth would stretch wide, his lips slick and red, wrapped around another man's cock. What else had Steve done? He imagined Steve in a narrow Army cot, another man's hands on Steve's hips, Steve's face bright with pleasure. Or-- or the other way around, Steve gasping and burying himself deep in an anonymous soldier, and he'd make them feel good, because he was good at everything, he was goddamn perfect at everything, he'd be perfect at this too.

What would Steve have done to him, if he'd said yes? He'd seen Steve break a man's neck barehanded without flinching, but Steve-- Steve would have been good to him. When Steve cuddled up to him, it was always unhesitating, his touch gentle and freely given. Hell, this evening Steve had been working all the knots out of his spine without him even asking.

Steve had sounded like he'd _wanted_ to go down on him. Just to make him feel good. Because he thought Tony deserved it.

Tony couldn't come up with the name of the last person in his life who'd actually, genuinely wanted to make him feel good.

Other than Steve.

And Steve was-- okay, Steve was attractive. Everyone knew that. You couldn't build a more handsome specimen of all-American beefcake if you tried. Tony had long regarded this as a purely objective fact.

He was beginning to realize that maybe this fact was not at all objective. Specifically, he thought Steve was handsome because he, Tony, was-- he was actually--

Jesus, he couldn't even think it. Even inside his head he wanted to make a joke of it, come up with the worst word he could think of.

"I know you weren't expecting any of this," Steve said, pained, which is when Tony realized he hadn't actually had any of this revelation out loud. "I really am... deeply sorry that I assumed something about you that wasn't true." Steve took another heavy breath. "I know that I owe it to the team to work well with everyone, no matter what, but beyond that, you-- you're my friend, Tony. And I know that maybe this is too much to ask for but I hope I haven't entirely ruined our friendship."

Steve rubbed his hand over his face, and Tony couldn't stop staring at his mouth. What would it be like if-- if--

He needed to tell Steve _something_.

At this point, though, he was basically the boy who cried wolf, in terms of talking about any of it. It was all going to sound like a joke. But he had to try.

"You haven't ruined anything," Tony told him. Steve looked unconvinced and uncomfortable. "I just-- it's, uh. It's giving me a lot to think about right now."

_And a hard-on_, he didn't add, as he readjusted his robe.

Steve raised a curious eyebrow.

What the hell. He just needed to man up and say it. "If the offer's still open, I, uh. I could be interested in it."

Maybe he should have tried some seduction on for size, because Steve just looked hurt. "You just told me you were straight."

"Yeah, uh." Tony licked his lips. "Funny story there. I think I might be wrong about that one."

This whole coming-out thing was a _motherfucker_ of an ordeal. He couldn't imagine anyone voluntarily doing this more than once. He really needed that drink.

There was no reply for several terrible seconds. Steve's jaw worked. Of course Tony was doing this wrong, of course he was doing it all wrong, how was he getting it so wrong--

"Look, I get it, you're a nice guy," Steve said, finally, thereby proving that he didn't, in actuality, know Tony at all. "You don't want to... offend me by saying no. But you don't have to lie to me to try to make me feel--"

Fuck it. He wasn't getting anywhere with words.

That was when Tony clambered his way across the couch, straddled Steve's lap, and kissed him.

He hadn't really had the chance to wonder if it would be different from kissing a woman. His brain was mostly full of thoughts like _stubble sure feels strange_ and _Steve's thighs are enormous_ and _probably I should have asked first_ when Steve's mouth opened under his, warm and wet, and Jesus, Steve could kiss, and here Steve was, kissing him back, and oh God, that felt good. When was the last time anything had felt good? Steve's hand slid up to cradle the back of Tony's skull, fingers easing gently through his hair, and Tony almost didn't think about the ticking time-bomb inside his brain.

His cock was definitely very interested in the proceedings. He rubbed up against Steve but didn't quite have the leverage or the angle, until Steve's other arm wrapped around his hip and held him tight -- and then slid lower, cupping his ass. Another man might have been afraid: the most cliché of fears, the worst thing one man could do to another. But Steve hadn't offered that, so maybe he just wanted to grope Tony's ass. Which Tony could get behind, so to speak, because Steve was good at that. Steve was good at everything.

Dizzy and hot all over, he moaned into Steve's mouth, pressed his body against his, thrust up against him with a roll of his hips. Steve had to be able to tell he was hard.

They broke apart, and Steve stared up at him, and Steve was actually panting for breath.

"That seem like I'm lying to you?" Tony asked.

Steve's hands settled at Tony's waist, a comfortingly-secure grip, and when Tony shifted his weight on his knees, planted on either side of Steve -- yeah, Steve was definitely hard, he realized, and that? Well, that was... hot. He gave the thought a second pass. Yeah, Jesus. The idea that Steve-- _Steve wanted him_ was making his stomach go funny in entirely unexpected ways.

Steve's jaw worked. "I just-- if you really do want this, I have to say something first." He tipped his head back against the couch, so Tony couldn't kiss him again while he was thinking.

"Yeah?"

"I've been with a lot of guys who said they were straight," Steve said, and his voice was level but his eyes looked like he'd just taken a punch. "And a hell of a lot of them never wanted to look me in the face again the next morning, because, hell, I was a faggot now, wasn't I?"

Tony wanted to murder someone on Steve's behalf.

"I don't care if you don't want to tell anyone," Steve continued. "I don't need one of the-- the fucking _parades_ they have now, God knows why," and, okay, someone needed to tell Steve about Pride. "I just don't want to see you tomorrow and have you think I'm worth less than any other man because I sucked your cock."

Oh, God. The problem with Tony and Tony's smartass mouth was that there was no way to say _of course I'll still respect you in the morning, darling_ and not have Steve think it was a joke. He'd used up all his chances.

"Steve," Tony said, as seriously as he could. He put one hand flat against the side of Steve's face, and Steve shivered. "That's not going to happen. I promise. I _promise_, okay?"

Steve exhaled hard. "Okay."

"Okay," Tony said. "Bed?"

"Bed," Steve agreed, and then he was -- holy shit -- standing up with Tony in his arms and carrying him forward. "You mind?"

No one else would ever have been able to do this. "Jesus, Steve, you're really turning me on."

"That's the idea," Steve said, with a bright and crooked smile that made Tony see why the entire European Theater of Operations had probably been lining up for him.

Tony's bed was up a flight of stairs, which Steve navigated without hesitation. He then dumped him on his back in the middle of it and he would have followed immediately had Tony not stopped him.

"Hey!" Tony said. "No boots on the bed, you savage!"

Steve smiled, sat at the edge of the bed, and carefully unlaced his boots one-by-one, setting them down. He turned back to Tony, a silent question in his eyes.

"Anything else you want to take off as well," Tony said, "I'd, uh. I'd really be in favor of that."

He didn't have to pretend. Not to himself, not to anyone. He could look all he wanted.

"Yeah?" Steve's voice was softer than Tony had ever heard it before.

"Yeah."

Steve pulled his shirt over his head and smiled and, wow, that was a lot of him and it was okay, it was okay to look, Steve wanted him to. "I always wondered what you sounded like when you were serious about something." Steve sounded contemplative. "Never figured this was how I would find out."

He crawled toward Tony and Tony supposed that meant he was keeping his pants on for the duration, and then Tony didn't have the brain cells to think about anything else as Steve kissed him once, unfastened the tie of his robe, and slid down his body.

"Shh," Steve said, his hands on the waistline of Tony's boxers. His breath was hot on Tony's skin. "Easy. This okay?"

"Very okay," Tony told him. He barely recognized his voice.

Then Steve pushed his boxers down and took his cock out and his mouth -- God, his _mouth_\--

Tony'd had a hell of a lot of blowjobs in his life, and he'd figured Steve was going to be good, but he'd figured Steve was going to be an entirely different kind of good. He'd imagined Steve as the kind of guy who knew exactly how to get a guy off, fast and efficient and ecstatic. Seeing stars with military precision.

That wasn't what he was getting.

Steve nuzzled at him, slowly, gently. When he'd said he'd wanted to be nice to him, he'd obviously meant it. He licked him slowly, all up the shaft of his cock, delicately licking the head, like he knew exactly how Tony liked it but he was going to take him there slowly, draw it out, make him feel good for as long as possible.

"You sweet thing," Tony gasped out, "you're going to kill me and I think I'm going to let you."

Steve lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth wet with spit and pre-come. "I like when you talk to me like that," he whispered.

"You can have all the pet names you want, beautiful," Tony said. "You -- oh, God -- you're really good at that."

Steve went all-in, unashamed, touching Tony everywhere, sliding a hand up to rub over his chest, sliding it back down to play with Tony's balls, carefully avoiding Tony's ass. Tony wanted to tell him it'd be okay to try, but he didn't know how. Tony couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him this much.

"You're perfect, darling," Tony gasped. Steve was jacking him off slowly, leisurely, licking him in little, dainty licks, showing off what the head of his cock looked like balanced on his tongue. Tony hoped every single one of those goddamn GIs had felt as lucky as he did, right now. "You're amazing."

Tony was floating in pleasure, higher and higher, as if the pool were still being filled while he was in it. Steve could keep him here, like this, as long as he wanted.

Steve raised his head again. His hair was flopping in his face, and he was smiling. His hand still kept moving on Tony's cock, slowly, not pushing him over the edge quite yet. "You like this?"

"I like this," Tony said, and, goddammit, if he wanted more, he'd have to ask for it. "I love this, darling. I just wonder if you could try-- maybe with a finger inside me?"

Steve's lips parted. "You ever tried that?"

"Not by myself," Tony admitted. "Never really felt good with anyone else. But I think-- I think you could make it good, sweetheart."

Steve flushed again -- and then very deliberately licked one of his own fingers. "Let's try, then," he said. "I used to imagine you doing this, you know? Kind of sad to know I was wrong."

"You do it to yourself?" Fuck, that was... definitely a mental image. He was going to have to keep that in mind for later.

Steve just grinned.

He put his mouth back on Tony's cock, practically just resting it there, and he palmed Tony's balls again. When he slid another finger farther back, Tony was ready for it, and, oh, hey, that felt nice, just lying there on the outside. He could get used to this. He spread his legs a little wider, encouraging.

And then Steve pressed a finger inside and that felt-- a little weird, but not bad. Maybe not for him, still, but not bad. He was kind of liking the extra stimulation, and then Steve moved his finger, pressing inside deeper and angling it and--

"Oh, God!" Tony gasped. He was clawing at the sheets, he needed to touch Steve, he needed-- he needed--

Steve did it again, and, because he'd been saving all his tricks for the end, apparently, he deep-throated him and made it look easy, and Tony just hung there, his cock in Steve's perfect mouth, Steve inside him, the pleasure rising up in a wave, and he came and he came and Steve swallowed it all.

He was aware of Steve shifting up the bed. "You look happier," Steve said, softly, and he brushed Tony's cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm glad."

And then he was... sitting up?

"Hey," Tony demanded, muzzily. "Come back here."

"It's okay," Steve said, but he obligingly stretched his legs out and rolled back over anyway, on his side, facing Tony. Like maybe he thought Tony needed comfort or reassurance or something. "You don't have to do anything for me. That's not what this is about--"

Tony stuck his hand down Steve's pants.

"Jesus Christ!" Steve said, too loudly, in Tony's ear, and then amended himself. "But whatever you wanted to do would be really -- oh, God, yeah, Tony, like that."

"You're going to have to talk me through this," Tony said, easing Steve's cock out of his pants. He wondered if he should be afraid. He was too hazy in the afterglow to feel anything but satisfaction. 

Steve was big, bigger than him, huge in his hand, and Tony didn't exactly have small hands. Steve was already massively hard, wetter than Tony got, and uncut. Tony didn't quite know what to do about that part.

"Just like what you'd do for yourself," Steve breathed. "Go easy, though. Sensitive."

Tony got his hand around Steve's cock, slid his fist up and down the shaft, and then watched Steve tense and shudder as he very delicately pushed the foreskin over the head of Steve's cock, up and then down again.

"Oh, _Tony_," Steve said, and, yeah, that was the ticket, all right.

He was getting the sense that Steve was already on the edge, just from blowing him -- wow, that was a thought -- and he didn't need to draw this out. So he kissed Steve a few times, pumped his hand a little harder, a little faster. Steve was trembling, close, so close.

"Come on, gorgeous," Tony said. "Come all over me. You know you want to."

Steve shuddered, and then he was coming on Tony's hands, across the bed between them, Tony's stomach. He was panting in huge, heaving breaths, his eyes fallen closed.

"Good?" Tony asked.

Steve gave him a lazy, easy smile. "I'm good. As long as it wasn't-- wasn't too much for you. First time and all."

Tony grinned. "I liked it a lot." He was tempted to make a crack about how very few people had had that particular honor, being his first at anything, but, well, Steve hadn't been here for that. He hadn't wanted the public persona.

And then Steve started to sit up again and that was just... unacceptable. "I should go, though," Steve said. "I guess I'll see you for the team meeting tomorrow--"

"You could stay," Tony blurted out, and Steve turned all the way around.

"Stay?" he asked, like he didn't know what that meant.

Apparently it had never been on offer before.

"You know," Tony said. "Stay the night. Sleep here in my big bed with me. Do it all again in the morning if you want. Have some breakfast. If you're interested."

Steve's smile was even wider. "You sure?"

"Absolutely, darling."

He had a lot of things to think about. But Steve flung one deliciously-possessive arm over his chest and Tony decided it could all wait until morning.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this fic has a [Tumblr post](https://sineala.tumblr.com/post/188379234819/fic-the-libertine)!


End file.
